


Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep

by Llama1412



Series: Chronic Pain [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Chronic Pain, Deepthroating, Drug Use, Edgeplay, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding, Rimming, Scent Kink, Shotgunning, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Geralt’s eyes burn and ache like he’s undergoing the trials again, so Jaskier does his best to help distract from the pain.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Chronic Pain [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667773
Comments: 19
Kudos: 272





	Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this fic for soooooooo long, and it's finally done!!! I hope you enjoy reading about using pleasure to drown out pain.

Pain was just a fact of life for a Witcher. Geralt had long since accepted that fact. He wasn’t happy about it, but when pain was your baseline for normal you – well, you didn’t exactly get _used_ to it, it still dragged at your body, an extra tax on your energy. But you learned to cope with it.

Geralt had forgotten what it felt like not to be in pain. There were bad days, of course. Days when every scar burned and every joint ached and his eyes felt like he was like they were being stabbed. And there were good days, days were he could almost forget that pain was there. But most days were just...normal. The pain was ever present, but it didn’t spike. It was just a constant fuzz in the back of his head – always there, but in the background.

Today was not a normal day. And it definitely wasn’t a good day. In fact, it was the first bad day Geralt had experienced since the bard had taken to trailing after him. Geralt could admit that Jaskier was somewhat amusing, charming even; but he was also a Lot for Geralt’s senses to take in. So when he woke with the pain already overwhelming him, Geralt knew that today was going to be a very bad day.

His jaw was clenched tight and he knew that it was only making his headache worse, but Geralt couldn’t relax it, not when tension was the only thing he was capable of. His eyes burned fiercely, as if someone had drilled deep into them with a hot lance. Days like this always brought him back to the Witcher trials, to the potions and mutagens they fed him and the way his entire reality had shifted into pain and never quite gone back.

After the first trial, Geralt had thought no pain could ever compare.

He’d been wrong. Getting his eyes enhanced was so much worse. His other senses had been amplified in the first trial, and he was overwhelmed not just by the pain, but by the sounds and smells of the other boys dying around him.

Geralt dug his fingers into the ground next to his bedroll, trying to ground himself in the present. That was the worst part about the bad days – along with the pain came the other sense memories and Geralt had to pant and breathe through his mouth just so that he could pretend he couldn’t still smell the shit and piss and vomit.

Geralt had been one of three to survive the trials. And then they’d given him more, pulled him further from humanity with pain, pain, _pain,_ and Geralt was screaming without voice in his bedroll.

That was how Jaskier woke up to find him. Geralt wasn’t cognizant of that part – he was trapped in his pain and his memories and unaware of the world around him. He didn’t see the way Jaskier panicked when Geralt was unresponsive, didn’t feel the way Jaskier’s hands fluttered around him, attempting to check for injuries.

He was only half aware of the way Jaskier left him to dig through his lute case and then knelt beside him again. He couldn’t hear the way Jaskier apologized softly, or smell the herbs he burnt.

But Geralt did feel it when Jaskier slipped his hand under Geralt’s head, threading gently through his hair and tilting his head up. He also felt the way Jaskier pulled his jaw open and squeezed his nose between two fingers. When Jaskier’s mouth covered his, Geralt was forced to inhale the smoke Jaskier breathed out and he felt it catch in his throat. 

When Jaskier pulled away, Geralt heaved in air and coughed. He tried to ask what the fuck Jaskier was doing, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice.

Jaskier understood anyway. “Sorry, it’s the only idea I had! I know the coughing sucks, but this works to relax humans, so maybe it’ll at least help you some! But you probably need more.” Jaskier hesitantly offered a pipe Geralt hadn’t noticed he was holding in his free hand. His other hand was still cushioning Geralt’s head and it actually felt kind of nice as Jaskier rubbed slow circles into his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut.

Geralt couldn’t even imagine moving right now, but he also didn’t know how to say that. Fortunately, the short time they’d spent together on the road had apparently taught Jaskier how to read him. 

“Okay, hold on.” Jaskier took a deep draw from the pipe and bent down over Geralt, slotted their mouths together, and exhaled into the Witcher’s mouth.

Prepared this time, Geralt inhaled with it, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before Jaskier pulled back and he could exhale. After a two more rounds of Jaskier exhaling smoke into Geralt’s mouth, he finally started to feel something.

It started small at first. A loosening of his muscles. The pounding ache in his head lessening. The pain in his eyes didn’t exactly lessen, but it felt as if there was a weight lifted from his brow. It was something.

“More,” Geralt was able to get out, nearly voiceless. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see Jaskier’s face, but his nose was no longer overwhelmed with the smells of the past. Instead, there was a rich, spicy scent coming from Jaskier that increased at Geralt’s request.

Geralt breathed it in deeply, feeling himself relax even before Jaskier bent down and replaced his breath with smoke. Eyes closed, Geralt let himself hold his breath for a moment too long and took stock of himself. He still hurt, but it was slowly fading into the background, where he could pay less attention to it. His head was full of the taste of the herbs and the smell of Jaskier and spice, and he slowly exhaled the smoke.

That spice smell hiked again, and Geralt tried to identify it now that his mind felt capable of doing more than screaming. The smell was familiar, so it must be something he knew. The spice was strong in his nose, and he pulled out the various attributes – it was similar to burnt cinnamon, but less sweet, with a hint of warm earthiness that made Geralt feel light headed.

Or maybe that was the smoke Jaskier had been giving him. The pain was still there, but it somehow didn’t seem to matter. Geralt opened his eyes to find Jaskier closer than he’d realized, kneeling next to him with a hand still in his hair. Jaskier face was flushed and his heartbeat was fast. Geralt tilted his head into Jaskier’s hand and Jaskier licked his bottom lip, the spicy smell steadily rising.

“Again,” Geralt found himself saying, and Jaskier obliged. The spice was stronger the closer Jaskier came, and when Geralt’s lips were covered, he could taste that spice under the smoke.

He wanted more. Geralt was moving before he realized, raising his hand to cup Jaskier’s neck and keep him close so that Geralt could lick across his lips, even as smoke escaped between them. Jaskier drew in a sharp gasp through his nose and Geralt stole the breath from his lungs.

Jaskier stuttered out a moan and Geralt greedily stole that too, breathing in through his own nose and feeding Jaskier his breath. There was a clink of ceramic against rock as Jaskier abandoned his pipe and wove his other hand into Geralt’s hair. 

When Geralt finally let him go, Jaskier was panting and his lips were very red. Suddenly, that seemed to be all Geralt could focus on: how much he wanted to suck and bite at Jaskier’s lower lip, to trace the cupid’s bow with the tip of his tongue, to part them with his own lips and suck on Jaskier’s tongue.

“Geralt?” Jaskier said, and Geralt could feel the bard’s breath against his lips. “Not that I’m not delighted by this development, but – are you okay? What _happened?”_

Geralt groaned. “Just a bad day.”

Jaskier looked skeptical. “Okay, but what kind of bad day? I couldn’t find any injuries...”

Geralt shook his head the slightest bit, but even that was too much and he closed his eyes with a grimace. “Not an injury. Just pain.”

“Oh,” Jaskier’s hands fluttered over his face, soothing the lines of stress, and Geralt let him, enjoying the drag of Jaskier’s callused fingertips over his cheek. “Is there anything that will help? Are my herbs doing any good?”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed in affirmation, eyes still closed. “Again?”

Geralt heard Jaskier’s breath hitch, and then that click of ceramic against stone as Jaskier picked up his abandoned pipe. Then he was pressing his lips against Geralt’s mouth again. Jaskier’s tongue followed the smoke and explored Geralt’s mouth. He gasped against Jaskier and he could feel the way Jaskier’s lips tilted up into a smile. The smoke escaped between them, and Geralt traced his tongue over Jaskier’s top lip the way he’d been dreaming of. 

Jaskier drew back slightly for a full breath and then dove back in, licking into Geralt’s mouth with enthusiasm. Geralt’s stomach felt jittery and there were tingles running up and down his spine. He shifted his weight onto his elbows so that Jaskier didn’t have to hold his head up, but that meant that Geralt couldn’t touch him

That was unacceptable, Geralt decided when Jaskier sucked on his lower lip. The bard applied his teeth lightly, and sucked hard. Then he drew back from the kiss, pulling Geralt’s lip with him. When Jaskier released it, Geralt’s lip felt bruised and swollen and Geralt wanted more. He chased after Jaskier, laying back down flat so that he could pull Jaskier down on top of him. 

Jaskier grunted into Geralt’s mouth as he fell against the Witcher’s chest. He wiggled around, making himself comfortable and brought a hand up to brush softly against Geralt’s cheek. 

“How are you feeling?” Jaskier pulled back to whisper, his thumb continuing to stroke across Geralt’s skin. Geralt could feel tingles ripple outward from the points of contact and it made his eyelids flutter. “How bad is your pain?”

It took effort to refocus his mind to assess himself, rather than just focus on Jaskier, but he managed it. “It’s still there, but I– it’s not really important,” he tried to explain, his voice rising at the end of make it a question. “Like it’s overshadowed by other things. I don’t care about it.” Jaskier licked his lips, and Geralt felt his concentration immediately shift back to the bard.

“I have an idea,” Jaskier said and his breath was hot against Geralt’s lips. “But you have to tell me if it’s too much. It’s okay if it is–”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled and he could feel Jaskier’s shiver everywhere they were pressed together. That spicy scent spiked again and Geralt realized it was arousal. Jaskier was aroused.

Because of him. 

Geralt’s mouth went dry, but fortunately, Jaskier did not need more prompting to continue. “We could drown out the pain with pleasure.”

Geralt licked his lips, noting the way Jaskier’s eyes immediately fixed on them. “I’m listening.”

Jaskier breathed out shakily. “I wanna touch you, wanna taste you. If you’ll let me.”

Geralt made a strangled sound and his hips bucked. “Fuck, yes, why the fuck would I say _no?”_

Jaskier shrugged. “If you weren’t into me, maybe.” He was trying to sound casual, but his voice was quiet.

Geralt slid his arm around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him closer. “I am.” He breathed.

Jaskier’s breathing hitched. “You– you are?”

He sounded disbelieving, as if they hadn’t just had the best makeout session of Geralt’s life. “Jaskier,” he said, bringing his free hand down to cup Jaskier’s ass and tug him against the bulge in the front of Geralt’s trousers. “I definitely am.” 

Geralt kissed along Jaskier’s cheek and flicking his tongue against Jaskier’s dimples. When he reached Jaskier’s mouth, the bard kissed him back eagerly, shifting so that he was straddling Geralt. Jaskier rocked his hips down and Geralt gasped into Jaskier’s mouth.

“Darling,” Jaskier murmured and Geralt moaned. Jaskier threaded his hands through Geralt’s hair and tilted his head back, rubbing softly at his scalp again. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Geralt felt his own breathing hitch at that. Jaskier mouthed along his jaw, sucking marks that Geralt was sure he would mind tomorrow, but at the moment, he had absolutely no objections. He squeezed his handful of Jaskier’s ass and pulled until their hips were moving in a steady grind. Jaskier kissed along the underside of his jaw and sucked on his adams apple. Geralt let out a deep groan and Jaskier continued, kissing down his neck and laving a tongue over Geralt’s pulse. When Geralt’s hips bucked, Jaskier stayed there a while. He licked and sucked until Geralt felt driven out of his mind, his hips rocking uncontrollably against Jaskier. Jaskier sucked hard and Geralt knew he was unbelievably close to the edge.

Suddenly, Jaskier pulled back entirely, sitting against Geralt’s legs. Geralt hadn’t known he was capable of the sound that escaped him, and he grabbed desperately at Jaskier. 

Jaskier caught one of Geralt’s hands with his own, bringing it to his lips and kissing across the back of his hand. It should not have felt as nice as it did, considering Jaskier had just prevented his orgasm. 

“Shhh.” Jaskier shushed, lips pressed against Geralt’s hand. “Trust me, darling. I promised to make you feel good, didn’t I?”

“Nnnngh,” Geralt’s attempt at a response died in his throat when Jaskier stripped off his doublet and pulled his chemise up over his head. Geralt made a wordless sound of want and ran his hands up from Jaskier’s waist to his chest, carding through the thick hair there. That spicy scent of arousal and Jaskier’s own musky scent wafted up to his nose and Geralt gripped Jaskier’s hips, pulling him up Geralt’s body until Geralt could bury his face into the hair that carried Jaskier’s scent so strongly. 

Jaskier yelped, but caught himself with his forearms braced against the bedroll under Geralt’s head. “Huh,” he said. “I should have guessed with your sensitive nose that you’d like this.” 

“Hmmm,” Geralt rumbled, face pressed into Jaskier’s stomach. “You smell of arousal. Because of _me.”_

Jaskier laughed softly and brushed one hand through what he could reach of Geralt’s hair. “I get aroused because of you a lot.” Geralt tried to muffle his whine against Jaskier’s skin. “Oh, surely you must know that, darling. Since day one.”

“Hmm,” Geralt was glad he couldn’t look Jaskier in the eye like this, because his face was flushing hot. He’d wanted Jaskier since day one, too, but what would an attractive young thing like Jaskier want with him?

Apparently, to make him feel good. The idea was entirely baffling to Geralt, but he found himself craving it with all his soul. He wanted an escape from his world of pain, and he wanted pleasure with Jaskier. 

“What do you want, darling? I can touch you,” Jaskier’s voice was deep and rough and sent shudders down Geralt’s spine. “Or if you want to smell more, you could always continue.” Jaskier tugged on his own waistband to make his offer clear and fuck, yes, Geralt wanted that.

“Yes,” he growled, reaching for the laces. 

Jaskier batted his hands away and rose, standing over Geralt’s chest to strip. Geralt’s mouth watered at the thought of getting his hands on all that bare skin, of getting to feel how Jaskier’s pubic hair felt different to his chest hair, of getting his mouth on the thick cock standing proudly at attention. Geralt tugged at the backs of Jaskier’s knees, urging him down to sit on Geralt’s chest and shoulders. Like this, Geralt could press his face to that nest of curls and breathe in the pure scent of Jaskier, spicy with arousal and musky with sweat and the salt of precum. 

Geralt opened his mouth, needing a taste to go with the smell. He curled his tongue around the base of Jaskier’s cock and thrilled at the girth of it. He pulled Jaskier around by the hips again, moving him until he could lick across Jaskier’s slit. Then he fed Jaskier’s cock slowly into his mouth, until his lips met the base of Jaskier’s cock and his nose was buried in the hair where Jaskier’s scent was strongest. Geralt inhaled deeply and let out a contented sigh around his mouthful that made Jaskier moan. 

Jaskier didn’t thrust his hips against him, though Geralt could feel him quivering with the effort. He drew Jaskier back by the hips and suckled at the head of his cock. A burst of precum spread over his tongue and Geralt closed his eyes to savour it. Then he pulled Jaskier’s cock back where it belonged, forcing his jaw open.

This wasn’t the best angle for it, but Geralt pulled Jaskier deep to hold him in his throat, swallowing around him.

“Fuck, Geralt.” Jaskier’s words were frantic, but his hand was gentle where it combed through Geralt’s hair. “Fucking shit, do Witchers not have gag reflexes?”

Geralt opened his eyes to hold Jaskier’s gaze and then pulled him deeper. Witchers did actually have gag reflexes, but Geralt had long ago gotten his under control. There was little he enjoyed quite as much as a cock in his mouth, and Jaskier’s cock was divine, wide enough to stretch Geralt’s lips and curved like it was meant to live in his throat. Geralt swallowed again and felt the tiniest jerk of Jaskier’s hips before he gained control over himself.

Could Geralt make him lose control? He did love a good face fucking, though perhaps not tonight. But there would be other times. Geralt hummed at the thought and Jaskier’s cry was loud above him. 

“Fuck, fuck, Geralt. Your mouth is as good as I dreamed, but I’m supposed to be making _you_ feel good.”

Geralt pulled off with a slurp, ignoring the saliva and precum that had escaped the corners of his mouth. “You are,” he murmured, licking a broad stripe up Jaskier’s cock.

Jaskier’s huff of laughter was tremulous. “Apparently. But I want to do more.” He pulled back and used his grip on Geralt’s hair to keep him from chasing that cock as it moved out of range. “Don’t worry, darling, I have an idea.” He stood up and turned around, moving until he knelt on his knees right above Geralt’s head. “Two options: we can suck each other, oooooor,” Jaskier dragged the word out, petting through Geralt’s hair again. “You can eat me out while I suck you.”

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned. “Yes, that one.”

Jaskier laughed in delight. “I was so hoping you’d say that.” He shuffled forward until he could sit on Geralt’s face. Geralt eagerly pulled him down, sliding his hands over Jaskier’s ass. He parted Jaskier’s cheeks and buried his face in Jaskier’s ass, inhaling deeply. 

Then he licked a broad stripe from Jaskier’s perineum to his tailbone, enjoying Jaskier’s shiver above him. Geralt did that several more times, teasing Jaskier and enjoying the taste of Jaskier’s skin and sweat.

“Geeeeeralt,” Jaskier drew out his name in a whine, and then got revenge by pulling out his cock and sucking the head into his mouth.

Motivated, Geralt flicked his tongue in quick little licks over Jaskier’s hole, pressing against the rim, but not quite penetrating. Jaskier moaned, and Geralt could feel the vibrations through his whole body, encouraging the heat building in his stomach. 

When Jaskier was squirming against him, moving his head up and down over Geralt’s cock, Geralt finally firmed his tongue and pressed into Jaskier’s heat. The bard gasped around him, pulling off of Geralt’s cock to throw his head back.

“Fuck, please,” he moaned, fingernails digging into Geralt’s clothes.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, and Jaskier made a loud desperate noise. Geralt fought down his smirk and devoted himself to eating Jaskier out with all dedication.

Jaskier’s fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him as Jaskier gasped out, “Fuck, but your cock is gorgeous. I’ve wanted–” he broke off with a whimper.

Geralt pulled back with a slurp. “What have you wanted?”

“Really? The one time you ask me to talk more, and it’s when your mouth has _so_ many better things to do,” Jaskier complained.

“So talk and I’ll continue,” Geralt smirked, turning his head to suck a mark onto Jaskier’s asscheek.

Jaskier huffed a laugh. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you for so long.” Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut and he thrust his tongue back into Jaskier, sucking messily at his rim. “I thought – hnng – thought you weren’t interested and didn’t want to push you, but _fuck,_ Geralt, the dreams I’ve had of you.” Geralt hummed in inquiry and Jaskier moaned loudly. “Your voice, deep and growly because you’ve been choking on my cock. Your fingers, gods, your hands as so big, but you’re always so gentle when you pull me out of trouble, even when I don’t deserve it. I want your fingers inside me, stretching me wide.” Jaskier’s touch on Geralt’s cock turned light and teasing. “I have spent far more time than is appropriate thinking about you lifting me up and fucking me against a wall. Or a tree. Honestly, not too picky – _ah!”_

Geralt smirked internally, flicking his tongue to make Jaskier gasp in pleasure again.

“This,” he gasped, “this right here, darling, your tongue buried in me, making my thighs shake just like this..." Jaskier’s thighs were indeed shaking and Geralt felt a spike of pride. He’d done this, _he_ was the one making Jaskier mewl and moan. “Oh, Geralt, give me your fingers, please!”

Geralt moaned, working two fingers in beside his tongue, then licking in between them, making Jaskier shudder and wail. 

“Fuck, your fingers are so thick, they feel wonderful. I’ve thought about – oh! – thought about you stretching me for hours and hours, until you can fit your whole wide hand inside me.”

Geralt groaned, pushing his fingers deeper. With every word Jaskier said, he wanted more, wanted to have Jaskier squirming and desperate on his hand. But he was curious, so he tilted his chin to be able to talk clearly, “And what have you wanted to do to me, bard? What would you do with me at your mercy?”

Jaskier whimpered. “P-pretty sure you already are,” he wrapped his hand around the base of Geralt’s cock and squeezed. “I wanna – oh, darling, after your fingers, I’m gonna ride you until you can’t think.”

Geralt moaned, feeling himself approaching the edge again just from Jaskier’s words. So he was more than slightly annoyed when Jaskier pulled his hand away, and he bit Jaskier’s ass again to show it.

“I know, I know,” Jaskier soothed. “But don’t you want to come inside me?”

“Fuck,” Geralt swore, curling his fingers inside Jaskier until the bard was squirming. 

“Ah, shit, I don’t want to come yet!” Jaskier clutched frantically at Geralt’s side and the witcher took mercy on him, pulling his fingers out and letting Jaskier kneel over him, panting to catch his breath. “Okay,” Jaskier breathed. “Okay. Lemme grab the oil.”

And then Jaskier’s warmth was gone and Geralt could hear him tripping over his feet to pull the oil from their saddlebags. Geralt wiggled as much as he could without the pain spiking back up until he could kick his trousers off himself. Then he just lay on his bedroll, upper half still clothed while his lower body was totally exposed. It made Geralt shiver, and when Jaskier returned, he made an approving sound before dropping down to straddle Geralt.

He poured the oil over his fingers and wrapped them around Geralt’s cock for a quick stroke before pushing his wet fingers inside himself. Then Jaskier held himself open and sank down on Geralt’s cock so very, very slowly that Geralt felt like he might shake out of his skin before it was over.

Finally, Jaskier’s ass rested on Geralt’s pelvis and they were both gasping for breath, overwhelmed. 

“You asked,” Jaskier grunted, circling his hips, “what I would do with you at my mercy.” He licked his lips and Geralt’s eyes followed the movement. “Oh, there’s so much I would do, Geralt. I want to eat you out until your thighs shake through orgasm. I want to suck that gorgeous cock until you thrust deep into my throat. I want you to wreck my voice so badly I can’t sing the next day, and only you will know why.” Jaskier’s thighs trembled as he lifted himself up. “I want, fuck, I want to take you apart until all you remember is my name.”

Geralt’s hips bucked and his breath punched out of him in a moan. Fuck, he wanted that, wanted to be taken apart and put back together by his bard. “Please.”

“Yeah?” 

All Geralt could do was nod. Jaskier’s hair shone in the early morning sun and Geralt felt breathless all over again. Fuck, but he was _beautiful._

“Then you’re not gonna come until I say you can, okay?” Jaskier winked at him.

Geralt groaned, his grip on Jaskier’s thighs went bruisingly tight before he consciously thought to reign in his strength. But that was just one more thing to think about, and Geralt wanted to let go. He needed – he needed help. “Hold me down,” he rasped.

Jaskier gasped, his hips twitching. “Hands by your shoulders,” he ordered.

Geralt’s head rolled at the rush of pleasure following Jaskier’s instructions immediately gave him, especially when Jaskier leaned forward to wrap strong, slender fingers around his wrists. 

“Oh, you _really_ like that,” Jaskier whispered in awe and Geralt struggled to open his eyes again, but when he did, his gaze was filled with Jaskier – his sun-highlighted hair, his heated blue eyes, the flush up his chest from arousal, the hard cock bouncing slightly as Jaskier rose as far as he could and dropped back down on Geralt’s cock and Geralt felt as if his brain was exploding in rapture. “What else do you want, darling? Let me make you feel good.” Jaskier leaned down to kiss his chin and jaw as he whispered and Geralt couldn’t hold back his whimper.

“I – I want,” he swallowed, “tell me to talk to you.”

Jaskier’s breath hitched for a moment. “Yeah? Are there things you’ve been wanting to tell me? I want to hear it all – all your noises, all your words, _everything.”_ He captured Geralt’s lips in a fierce kiss and Geralt sighed happily into it.

It was funny how just being told to do something made it so much easier. And Geralt _wanted_ Jaskier to know what he felt. He didn’t want Jaskier to ever sound as tentative as he had when he’d murmured “if you weren’t into me,” as if Geralt could be anything else.

“I dream about your hands,” Geralt voice came out in a growl and Jaskier shuddered around him, rocking their hips together. “You seem so delicate at first glance, but you–” Geralt flexed his wrists against Jaskier’s hold and his fingers tightened warningly. “You’re so much stronger than anyone realizes. And your fingers,” Geralt licked his lips, swallowing excess saliva. “I want to find out what your lute calluses feel like everywhere.”

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier’s paced increased before he forced himself to slow down, and despite Geralt’s whines, he didn’t speed up again. “Not yet, darling. Keep talking to me. Where would you have me touch you?” 

“Everywhere,” was Geralt’s immediate response, and it was true. But if he had to pick somewhere, “I want to feel you inside me. I think about,” he licked his lips and admitted, “about if your massage had gone further. And – and if I’d asked you to do my front.” Jaskier massaging every inch of his skin had plagued his dreams since the bard had suggested giving him a back massage after a bath, and Geralt had agreed. But if he’d turned over, if he’d had the courage to ask Jaskier to touch his chest, rub across his nipple – 

Geralt arched with a moan and Jaskier threw his head back with a gasp. “I think about that, too,” Jaskier said. “Keep your hands there,” he ordered and the pressure left Geralt’s wrists long enough to unbutton his shirt.

Only Jaskier’s hands kept fumbling the catches and Geralt deeply regretted wearing a shirt with so many damn buttons, except it’s low neckline meant that Jaskier would be able to touch so much more of him.

If he could get the buttons undone. “Fuck it,” Jaskier snarled and his hands knotted in the fabric on each side of Geralt’s chest and _pulled_ until it was ripping apart. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat, entirely unprepared for how hot he found that.

“Fuck, please touch me,” he begged, feeling frantic. 

“Shhh,” Jaskier hushed him, hands moving back to trap his wrists. “Believe me, darling, if I had my way, I’d never _stop_ touching you.” Geralt moaned, and Jaskier leaned down to press a kiss to the center of his chest. “Tell me what you’ve thought about. Where do you wish I’d touched?”

“Hnng, Jaskier,” Geralt felt out of his mind, but it was okay, because Jaskier was holding him down, Jaskier was controlling him and all he had to do was what Jaskier said. “I’m – I’m sensitive,” he could feel his face flushing just admitting that, but Jaskier’s face lit up.

_“Really?”_ Jaskier drawled and he leaned down again to mouth along Geralt’s collarbone.

“I want – want you to touch everywhere, want you to see if I can come just from your mouth and fingers on my nipples, I want, nnngh,” Geralt moaned and Jaskier kept moving in that way that was making his thoughts spin away. 

But he’s been told to tell Jaskier what he wanted, what he liked, and he could do that.

“I think about if you massaged my chest and – and liked my tits.” Jaskier’s moan encouraged him to continue, “I think about squeezing them together for you, about you fucking my tits until you come over my face.”

“Shit,” Jaskier swore, biting at Geralt’s chest. “Fuck, god, I wanted to. I couldn’t offer, because I knew I couldn’t take it. Getting my hands on your gorgeous tits,” Jaskier sucked a kiss against his chest with every word and when he felt teeth plucking at his nipple, Geralt couldn’t help the wail that spilled from his mouth. “The first time I saw you shirtless,” Jaskier spoke from close enough that his lips brushed against Geralt’s skin, his breath making Geralt’s nipple pebble. “You were covered in monster gore and it should have been disgusting, but all I could focus on was your nipples growing hard in the cool breeze.” He sucked the nipple into his mouth before continuing, “while you bathed, I had to take care of myself in our room.”

“I know,” Geralt rumbled. “I could smell it,” and his eyes rolled back just at the memory of the first taste he’d had of Jaskier. “I could taste your cum in the air and I wanted it to be me who had brought you there.”

“Fuck!” Jaskier’s hips jerked, uncontrolled and he pulled back to reel them both back from the edge. “Could you smell me _every time?”_ he asked with wide eyes.

“Mmmm,” Geralt hummed, losing himself in the sense memory for a moment. Jaskier usually tried to clean up after a liaison, washing the scent off his skin as much as possible, which Geralt appreciated. But when he had some solo fun? He was much lazier about that and Geralt’s mouth watered as he thought back to the time Jaskier had brought himself off in the bedroll next to Geralt while he’d thought the witcher was asleep. “You smell like home,” the words came out half-slurred in a haze and Geralt didn’t see the way Jaskier’s eyes welled up, but he _did_ feel the way the bard squeezed tightly around him and it drew forth another breathy moan. “When it’s just the two of us traveling and you smell of cum and _me.”_

“Fuck!” Jaskier hips moved in quick little jerks and his breath was coming in quick gasps. “I don’t – I don’t want to come, don’t want this to end.” The tears in his eyes spilled over and Geralt raised his head to try to kiss them off Jaskier’s cheeks. “I can’t go back to not having you. I can’t!”

“You’ve always had me,” Geralt whispered, “Since the moment you came back to travel with me. You’re the only one who comes back.”

“I always will,” Jaskier promised, and then their lips were sliding together, wet and messy and perfect. 

The vow and the intensity of the kiss, combined with the tight squeeze of Jaskier around him was driving Geralt’s mind blank of all thoughts. “Fingers,” Geralt managed to string together the words to ask for. “Give me your fingers, _please,_ Jaskier.” His voice came out in a high whine, and Geralt would be ashamed, but Jaskier _asked_ him to make noise, asked to hear him. Geralt couldn’t disappoint Jaskier. 

Jaskier released one wrist, but Geralt hardly noticed when his body was so overwhelmed with sensation. Besides, Jaskier leaned all of his weight on the other wrist while his fingers stroked through Geralt’s hair and traced over his face before Jaskier finally held them against his lips.

Geralt’s tongue flicked out to wet them and soon, his mouth was flooded with the taste of sweat and oil and Jaskier as fingertips slid over his tongue. Geralt sucked frantically, and just having something in his mouth sent him higher, floating in pleasure. 

“Oh, you were made for your mouth to be fucked, weren’t you?” Jaskier’s voice was husky and gravely with emotion, but there was still an underlying layer of awe that made Geralt feel special. As if he was worthy of craving and longing and lust. “N-next time,” Jaskier said waveringly and Geralt sucked his fingers harder in reassurance.

There was no _way_ they weren’t doing this again. Every day for the rest of eternity, if Geralt got a vote. 

“Next time, I want to lay you out and kiss every inch of you, show you how precious you are. I want to show you that the world is more than pain and monsters, and I want to give you a future full of pleasure.

Geralt moaned, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. 

“I want to drive you mindless on my fingers, on my tongue, on my cock. I want to bring you pleasure over and over and over again until your body can’t take it anymore.” Jaskier nosed up Geralt’s chest to bite at where his shoulder joined his neck. “I want to make you forget about everyone you’ve ever had except me.”

Geralt moaned, his hip jerking against Jaskier’s, and as Jaskier sucked a mark over his pulse, the tension inside him shattered in an array of sparks over his vision. Jaskier squeezed around him, milking him as he came, and he released Geralt’s other wrist to strip at his own cock.

“Come on me,” Geralt slurred. “Wanna smell you on me, want to be yours.”

With a hitched breath and a low moan, Jaskier came, his cock shooting spurts of cum up Geralt’s chest, catching on his nipples.

Geralt hummed in satisfaction at the feeling, and the scent of Jaskier and sex and cum overwhelming him, and he could feel sleep creeping up on him, as it always did after a spectacular orgasm.

“Jaskier,” he mumbled, finally moving his arms to stroke over Jaskier’s back where the bard was slumped against him. “Stay?”

“Like fuck am I ever moving again,” Jaskier sighed. He did shift to let Geralt slide out of him, but then he just stretched out on top of Geralt, smearing his cum between their chests. “Just so we’re clear,” he met Geralt’s eyes, “if I wake up tomorrow with your cum in my ass and you missing, I will kill you.”

Geralt swallowed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Stay,” he repeated, trying to infuse the word with all the meaning the could. Stay here, stay with me, stay the night, stay the rest of our lives – he poured it all into the single word he could manage.

Jaskier seemed to pick up at least some of it, because he leaned up to kiss Geralt softly. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here for you.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth and trailed up his cheek. “Are you still in pain?”

Geralt blinked and it took him several long moments to remember that he’d woken up not that long ago in agony. He had been wrong, Geralt realized with relief as he shook his head. Jaskier hadn’t made a bad pain day worse at all. Geralt hovered on the cusp of sleep, pleasure dragging at him mind and with not a hint of pain.

“Good,” Jaskier said against his forehead, pressing another soft kiss to Geralt’s lips. “We’re going to wake up disgusting, you know,” Geralt heard him say as he curled up with his head tucked under Geralt’s chin. Jaskier was probably right, but right now, Geralt had never felt more content.

**Author's Note:**

> The incredible [XxWanderlustxX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxWanderlustxX/pseuds/XxWanderlustxX%22) drew art for this fic! Go check it out at [here](https://franzwantscoffee.tumblr.com/post/623486380699484160/based-on-your-eyes-arent-rivers-there-to-weep-by). It's truly a treat!


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